


Brimful o' Stars

by blue_spectacles



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Space Pioneers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_spectacles/pseuds/blue_spectacles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to keep colonists out in the barren reaches of space, the Federation has recruited a number of volunteers to marry them. James T. Kirk is one such volunteer - with his record, he figures this is the only way he'll get to see the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mail Order Brides

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU. Somewhat inspired by the _filles du roi_ \- 800 French girls who emigrated to Quebec in the 17th century as part of a program to encourage the settlers to remain in New France.

“ _Ilven_? They’re sending us to _Ilven_?” James Kirk’s voice rose a couple of notches each time he named the planet. “ _Ilven_?”

“What’s so bad about Ilven?” Gaila looked up from her PADD, tossing red curls out of her eyes. She was stretched out on the bunk beside him, relaxing in just a bra and panties. Her excuse was she didn’t want to wrinkle her good dress, but Kirk thought she just liked being naked. _Best roommate ever, obviously._

Kirk huffed, staring down at his own screen in dismay. He tapped through the various video feeds and articles on their destination, shaking his head. “It’s a dump, okay? I thought they were sending us to brave new worlds and we get . . . _Ilven_?”

“It’s gotta be Class-M, though, right? Or there wouldn’t be settlers . . . so it can’t be that bad, can it?” his Orion friend shrugged, turning back to her browsing.

“Come on, Gaila, this is our future! Our whole lives are gonna be spent on this rock.” He flipped through pages and pages of photos, his dismay growing into a horrible gnawing ball in the pit of his stomach.

 _So much for exploring the unknown, the final frontier._ Ilven didn’t look much different from Earth – if he was going to get stuck on another damn farm, he may as well have stayed in Iowa!

And sure, he knew they weren’t going to be _space heroes_ , or anything – Starfleet didn’t let repeat offenders bumming around the Midwest into their Academy – but the Feds who recruited him for the program had promised a _change of freaking scenery_ at least!

Crossing the closet-sized quarters he shared with Gaila took all of two seconds. Kirk peered out the small porthole into the black, smattered with all those distant, teasing stars.

And he was on a transport ship headed to _Ilven_. His fingers itched. 

He felt the old longing. Maybe it was what his parents felt, when they joined Starfleet. How would he know? He hadn’t been on speaking terms with his mother since he was sixteen. His dad died the day he was born. Kirk had always promised himself he would never have anything to do with the ‘fleet, and yet . . .

And yet If he hadn’t been such a fuck-up, maybe . . .

His throat tightened. He shut his eyes, leaning his forehead against the vibrating wall of the ship. No good came from letting his thoughts wander down those particular pathways.

“Jim . . .” Gaila put the PADD aside and stood next to him. She rubbed his arm.

“I’m fine,” he forced himself to smile.

“You’re nervous. We all are. But it’s going to be fine.”

Kirk turned to her, smiling wider and scooping Gaila into his arms. He spun her around, making her laugh. And God, that was a good sound, he still loved making girls laugh.

They’d hooked up a few times, in the early days, but it hadn’t developed into anything serious. They couldn’t afford to _let_ it develop into anything serious, not when their whole purpose here was to marry other people.

The Federation was recruiting spouses for their colonists now. _Wild, right?_

He wasn’t nervous, not in the way she was imagining. He enjoyed sex and was quite good at it. Besides, the Federation was shipping them out to the border planets to start families with the settlers and encourage them to stay. No one was going to force them into anything. It just wasn’t what Kirk had imagined doing with his life.

But who cared, right? The dreams he’d had once _, the longing,_ it had been stupid.

“Come on, get dressed,” he told her. “Let’s meet Janice and the others on the recreation deck. I don’t want to spend the whole voyage cooped up in here, staring at our PADDs.”

  

 

*          *          *          *          * 

 

 

The day their ship arrived in orbit around Ilven, everyone was flustered and nervous. Janice had her hair in a ridiculous beehive-bouffant – he kept staring at it, wondering how the hell it stayed in place.

But then Gaila grabbed his hand, spinning around and grinning at him with such manic excitement that Kirk couldn’t help grinning back.

“Do you think we’ll meet someone right away? Do you think they’ll be nice? Do you think they’ll like us?”

“I’m sure they will,” he laughed. “Face it, we’re awesome. Best mail-order brides _ever_.”

A woman cleared her throat behind them. “For the freightage the Federation is paying to ship you out here . . . you better be.”

Kirk turned, Gaila still hanging off his arm. A Starfleet officer stood before them. She held herself perfectly straight and Kirk – momentarily shocked - resisted the urge to stand up a little straighter himself. He wasn’t going to impress them now, no matter what he did, and it didn’t matter anymore, did it?

The officer was young – a lieutenant, he could tell by her insignia – she was also very beautiful. Very professional. A proper adult, not like him.

“Jim Kirk,” he said, extending his hand.

The lieutenant smiled, but didn’t offer her own name in return. “Starfleet is here to ensure your successful arrival and integration into the colony on Ilven,” she said. Her voice was a little clipped.

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “The fleet’s breaking in the rookie officers with an assignment like this.”

Her smile tightened, just a touch.

“I didn’t realize the Federation was so invested in this dirt ball.”

“I would explain the strategic value, but I doubt you’d understand.”

“Try me.”

Before they could get into it, the speakers chimed and announcements instructed the colonists to report to their shuttles. It was too bad, really, he would have liked the chance to show the lieutenant he was more than just a pretty face.

Kirk was swept along in the tide of humanoid bodies. Surging through the transport vessel’s corridors, they moved towards the shuttle docks. The buzz of energy in the air was palpable. Kirk couldn’t keep the bounce out of his step.

This was what he had been waiting for his whole life – a brave new world waiting beneath their feet.

He’d forgotten, for the moment, his complaints about their destination. He couldn’t stop imagining all the possibilities of what _might_ be down there –

“You’re smiling,” Janice said, accidentally stepping on his feet.

He steadied her. “I’m happy,” Kirk said. And he actually meant it.

“Who isn’t?!” Gaila squealed, grabbing both their arms and dragging them up the metal ramps.

The shuttle lights came on, glowing with promise. Engines hummed. And Ilven was infinite possibility, waiting below.

 

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

 

As far as Leonard McCoy saw it, Ilven was a shithole of a planet at the ass-end of the galaxy. The settlement was small, far from Earth or any of the core Federation worlds. It had crappy grid access, intermittent electricity – hell, not everyone had running water! The winters were cold as hell, and when it wasn’t cold the bugs were terrible. It had exactly one thing to recommend it, as far as McCoy was concerned: _Ilven was as far away as it was possible to get from his ex-wife._

That was why he was there; he wasn’t sure what anyone else’s excuse was.

Ilven didn’t have a lot in the way of trained medical professionals, so the fact that he wasn’t all touchy-feely with his patients didn’t seem to matter as much as it might have back on Earth.

The Federation was set on keeping him out there, so they doubled his “isolation” pay and promised Joanna a free ride at any school in the ‘verse.

He’d pretty much come to terms with the fact that he was going to grow old and die on the worst Class-M planet on record. This was the cheery thought with which Doctor McCoy began each day. Well, a little suffering was good for the soul.

“Ah, Doc, there y’ are!” Montgomery Scott nearly bowled him over, grabbing McCoy’s arm and steering him off the street.

McCoy shook him off. “I’m on my way to work, Scotty.”

“What, at the hospital?”

McCoy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Yes! At the _hospital_ , where I am a _doctor_.”

“Right, right,” Scotty was clearly distracted, he kept looking over McCoy’s shoulder. McCoy frowned.

Now that his attention was drawn to it, he noticed most of the settlers were gathering on the dirt streets, heading to the town square, or craning their necks skyward, watching for something between the clapboard and log houses, the hastily constructed buildings.

“Is something going on?”

“Ye can be a few minutes late today, surely.”

“Do you know how many doctors there are on Ilven, Scotty?” McCoy growled.

But Scotty wasn’t paying attention to him. “Listen, mate, I jes wanted to tell you. So ye dinnae miss out on the chance-”

“Chance for _what_?”

“Today’s the day. The Federation’s bringing over – well, wives, they’re saying,” the engineer actually took off his hat, and started twisting it nervously.

“Stop that,” McCoy growled, slapping his hands. “Talk sense, man. The last I heard the Federation wasn’t involved in human trafficking.”

“Oh no, they’re not –” and Scotty actually blushed. McCoy was becoming more uncomfortable by the second. “I mean they’re technically jes more colonists, right? But if’n the Feds recruited more’n the regular number of pretty young lassies . . .”

“Ugh,” McCoy rolled his eyes and started walking away.

Scotty scrambled after him. “I’m jes tellin’ ye what I heard, Doc! It’s all over the grid.”

McCoy walked faster.

Scotty huffed. “Oh, come on! Are ye made of stone, man? Besides, if I ever knew anyone who needed a good lay-” he choked when McCoy turned back to scowl at him. “Well, you _are_ a little high strung, mate.”

“I’m also a little busy, being one of the _only twelve_ doctors on this entire planet. One of the only three in this city, I might add.”

“Aye, also a single father, who could probably use an extra pair of hands around the old homestead, if ye know what I mean.”

“I shudder to think,” McCoy snapped. “Scotty, I’m busy. And not interested. So why don’t you go ahead, and tell me if it works out? Or better yet, keep it to yourself!”

Scotty paused for only a second, before breaking into a grin. “Ah, I cannae do that, Doc. Who do you think’s gonna deliver all the wee little Scottys?” 

 

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

 

The first city they saw on Ilven was called _Prosper_ , which must have been named by someone with one hell of a sense of humor, Kirk thought. He saw the warren-like tangle of dirt roads from the shuttle as they descended, the low, wood buildings, some seemingly piled haphazardly atop one another.

What he didn’t see was much technology – which was fine, he told himself. It was an adventure, right?

Still. He couldn’t help rubbing sweaty palms against his pant legs. The recruiters had been impressed with his farming background (yeah, he didn’t get to hear _that_ too often.) They said it meant he had skills necessary for the pioneer-like existence they were living out on the Federation’s rim. But he’d never built a house out of wood, or whatever, alright? How useful was he really going to be?

They were free to refuse any marriage proposals they didn’t like, but, what if nobody even _wanted_ him in the first place? Kirk knew he was good looking (what? No point in false modesty!) but so were the other thirty-odd humanoids packed on the shuttle with him. For the first time in his life, he didn’t really stand out in that department.

Beside him, Gaila was pulling at her harness, she was so eager to get down there. Every time she turned his way, Kirk saw a big grin plastered on the Orion’s face. He swallowed and made himself smile back. He couldn’t believe he’d already lost the sense of excitement he’d had on the ship.

Beside him, Janice Rand was even more nervous. She picked at the straps of her harness, face chalky white. Gaila put her hand over hers. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Just be yourself. They’ll love you.”

Kirk leaned back against his seat, taking deep breaths. The shuttle rocked horribly in its descent. _Just be yourself. They’ll love you._

Or not.

But, you know, no sense worrying about _that_ eventuality.

The shuttle landed safely and they disembarked, only to be herded into processing. It took forever and was all paperwork, scanning ID cards, checking profiles, verifying that everything had been properly signed and their medical records were up to date.

This was stuff they’d been over a hundred times since signing up back on Earth, but there was no choice but to go through it all again.

By the time they actually emerged from Federation buildings, most of the day had slipped past, but there was still a crowd gathered around them.

Up and down the streets, people in rough leather vests and jackets, tattered jeans stopped to stare at their group. They leaned against buildings, and for the first time in his life Jim Kirk was not quite keen on being the centre of attention.

The Starfleet officer from earlier reappeared, introducing herself to everyone as Lieutenant Uhura. They had rooms waiting for them in a dormitory-style building not a quarter of a mile away, she told them.

But none of them were ready for that.

Even as tired and somewhat uncomfortable as they were, these were their _first steps_ on a brave new world.

Everyone was silent for a moment, shuffling their feet.

“Well . . .” Kirk began, clearing his throat. “We’ve all just been given a handful of credits and dropped on an alien world. Tell me there’s a place to get drunk!”

Uhura rolled her eyes at him, but soon the others started agreeing. She shook her head, but pointed them in the direction of the local tavern.

Kirk smiled, because even if he was on another planet, at least he could still get hammered.  

If only the crowd of onlookers didn’t follow their every step, forcing the men and women in Kirk’s group to fall in closer together. No one said anything outright, but he felt their unease. He had to wonder if Starfleet wasn’t there to act as more than just tour-guides.

Once in the bar, the trouble started right away.

Kirk ordered a round of shots for himself, Gaila and Janice, when a huge wall of a man stomped up to them, moustache a quiver, and placed one meaty hand on Kirk’s arm, yanking him back out of his seat.                                          

“Hey,” he tried, flashing the usual winning grin. “Something I can help you with?”    

“I’ll say,” the man snorted, grabbing Kirk’s face. “You’re here for us, aren’t ya, babe?” Kirk noticed three other, equally burly guys, standing close behind him. _Trying to trap him and the girls against the bar?_

“I don’t normally go for dudes, but you got a pretty mouth, don’t you, whore?”

Kirk grabbed the man’s hand, prying it off. “Tone it down a little . . . cupcake. We just got here.”

“Yeah, and we’ve been waitin’ a long time,” more crowding, right into Kirk’s personal space. “Six years some of us been out here . . . building, logging, mining. Gets lonely, y’know?”

“I’m sure,” Kirk leaned back against the bar, downing his shot.

“I like the green one,” Cupcake’s friend said, leering at Gaila.

The other draped himself over Janice. “Hey, you’re really pretty, you know. Ain’t no one like you out here.”

Janice shoved the creep back, tossing her drink in his face. He sputtered angrily, and Kirk leapt out of his seat, getting between them.

“Back off,” Kirk told him. “We’re not interested.”

Cupcake smirked. “Don’t play hard to get now, you little cock tease.” He reached for Kirk’s hair. Kirk knocked the hand away. “We all know what you whores are here for.”

“Apparently not.”

Kirk turned to check on Janice, when Cupcake grabbed his arm. _This again?_ He was about to tell the guy to _seriously, fuck off,_ when an explosion of pain slammed into his chin.

He was knocked against the bar, blinking dark spots out of his eyes. _What the hell?!_ – Did Starfleet really bring them out to the edge just to be cheap whores?

Gaila gave a guttural yell and full-body tackled one of the guys, slamming his head into the ground.

Kirk pushed himself up, using the bar for leverage and kicked Cupcake square in the chest. The hulk flew back, crashing through a table. Wood cracked and exploded, splinters shooting across the floor.

Now they had the attention of everyone in the establishment – if they hadn’t already – and Cupcake’s friends rounded on them. But now he was ready for it. Kirk wasn’t a slouch when it came to fighting. Gaila and Janice weren’t half-bad, either.

They managed to do hold their own for the first minute.

Kirk blocked another blow to the face, shoving his attacker into another bar patron. But then he threw a punch and missed, and the guy kicked him in the gut so hard he almost puked. He stumbled back and another man caught him, only to sock him in the mouth. He tasted blood. _That’s not good._

“Leave him alone!” he heard Gaila scream.

Another blow, this time to the back of the head, and the floor rose up to meet him. Face slammed against hard-packed dirt. _Classy._ He was getting his ass kicked in a place that didn’t even have a floor. He should have stayed in Iowa. A boot kicked him in the ribs. Stars of pain exploded behind his eyes.

Bottles smashed. People screamed. Someone grabbed him by the jacket and hauled him up, only to ram in down on a table and – before he could say anything, catch his breath – punch him in the face again. And again.

“You’re going to kill him!” Janice yelled.

_This is how I die. Beaten to death on fucking Ilven._

Suddenly, the punches stopped. Cupcake was thrown backwards by a burst of a light and lay stunned and vaguely smoking against the bar.

His cronies backed off, hands raised, and Kirk tried to lift his head. One eye was already swelling shut and his nose and throat were full of blood.

Kirk groaned. Lieutenant Uhura stood over him, her phaser raised.

“You stun him?” he asked.

She looked down at him, and Kirk could have sworn she actually looked concerned. “Yeah.”

“Cool.”

Uhura sighed and he thought she might have rolled her eyes, but it was getting harder to see.

“I always wanted one of those,” he slurred. “ _Phasers_. Cool.”

“I should have known you couldn’t spend five minutes on Ilven without starting a fight.”

“The fight wasn’t Jim’s fault,” said Gaila.

She handed him a rag, which he tried to press to his bleeding nose, but that stung like a mother, so he gave up, letting his head fall back against the table with a clunk.

“Those . . . those _assholes_ attacked us,” said Janice. And _wow_ , for Janice Rand to start swearing things had to be bad. Kirk was impressed.

“I thought we were supposed to be safe. I thought we weren’t going to be forced to do anything we didn’t want. But the way those men were talking . . .” she shuddered. If he wasn’t in so much pain, Kirk would have gotten up and put an arm around her. As it was, Gaila pulled her into a hug.

Uhura’s concerned-face was back. “Of course not.”

She turned to a cadre of Starfleet personnel who had filtered into the tavern behind her. “Arrest Mr. Henderoff and his friends,” she said, gesturing to Cupcake. “Take them to the county jail. They’re charged with assault.”

“Assault? More like attempted rape,” said Gaila.

“Oh God,” Uhura really did look pained, Kirk thought. “I’m so sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Was Kirk the only one who heard the implied ‘ _again,’_ at the end of that statement?

He blinked, trying to keep his eyes focused. What the hell had they signed up for?

He lost a few minutes, after that, and Gaila was sitting next to him on the table, holding his hand. “Can we take him to a doctor, or something? You _do_ have doctors here, don’t you?”

“’mma gon’ be fine,” he mumbled. “Just need another drink. Or two,” he winced as the pain in his jaw flared. “Or ten.”

“ _Jim_ ,” Janice shook her head, a disapproving frown line appearing on her forehead.

“Come on, I’ve been in fights before. I’ll walk it off,” he struggled to pull himself into a sitting position.

“No, you’re going to get checked out,” said Uhura, in a tone that very clearly brooked no arguments. “Commander Spock will take you to the nearest –” she glanced at her PADD – “ _only_ hospital. I will escort everyone else to the dorms.”

“ _Commander Spock_? Who the hell is Commander Spock?” Kirk shook his head – like that would clear the spots from his eyes.

A second later, a Vulcan stood next to him. After exchanging a few words with Uhura – too low for Kirk to hear them – he managed to _scoop_ Kirk off the table. And damn if that Vulcan-strength wasn’t unsettling.

“I can walk. Hey, put me down, I can walk!” he insisted.

Finally, they had it worked out that Kirk would hobble along, leaning on the Vulcan for support.

Kirk still wasn’t really in his right mind, on account of being punched in the face repeatedly, so he might have been a _little_ more insensitive than usual when he said: “your ears are real pointy. You know that, right?”

Spock made no response, which was just as well.

They limped their way to the hospital in awkward silence, Kirk bleeding on the commander more than a little, in what must have looked like the saddest three-legged race of all time.

 _Great start to a new life_ , Kirk thought. He should have known he would fuck it up on Ilven, as much as he had on Earth.

“If you wish to cancel your contract with the Federation and return to Earth, that can be arranged,” Spock said, as though reading his mind. Maybe he was – Kirk wasn’t too sure about the extent of freaky Vulcan powers.

    
 “What? No, Spock, I don’t wish to ‘cancel my contract with the . . . the . . .’ fuck,” he groaned, as they stumbled over a loose wooden plank on the sidewalk. “I’ve been in fights before. This isn’t even that bad. Just a couple bruises. I don’t even need the damn hospital, okay?”

“And this experience has not deterred you from the Federation’s goals?” Kirk could have sworn he _heard_ the raised eyebrow in that question.

“What, you mean to pimp me out to the priority colonists they don’t want leaving?”

“The Federation does not condone–”

“Relax, Spock, I’m kidding,” he sighed. Not easy, ‘cause he couldn’t breathe through his nose. “But the Federation _does_ want us to marry, start families and settle into life on Ilven, right?”

“Colonists with partners and families are more likely to remain in one place and to build a home and community which they find rewarding in the long-term. This would suit the Federation’s goals of assuring this quadrant is populated, and thus a less appealing point of conquest for the encroaching Romulan Empire.”

“You have a very dry way of explaining the situation, anyone ever tell you that?”

“I am merely confirming your understanding of the facts.”

Kirk stumbled again, groaning loudly. “Wonderful.”

“You are in pain.”

“Well, that’s what we’re going to see the doctor for, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” but he felt Spock adjust his grip, taking more of Kirk’s weight and that was nice. Maybe these Starfleet drones weren’t such jerks, after all.

 

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

 

“The hell happened to him?” the doctor asked, as Spock helped Kirk onto the examination bed.

Kirk swayed slightly under the bright lights. Even sitting he felt dizzy, like he might keel over any second. At least the hospital had electricity, that was a good sign. _And tricorders_ , he thought, as one was waved in his face.

It made sense that the hospital would be the only building on the planet to have good Federation tech.

“You look like you lost a fight with a wild mugato,” the doctor muttered.

“Yeah, I feel like it too.” Kirk cracked one eye open to get a look at the man who was treating him, and wasn’t disappointed. Tall, broad shouldered, handsome in a scowly-sort of way.

“Jim Kirk,” he said, thrusting out his hand.

The doctor kept examining his tricorder readings. He ignored the proffered hand, but he did grunt: “Leonard McCoy.”

Spock stood politely back, hands folded behind him, looking very proper in that way Vulcans had.

Kirk wished he would speak. The doctor wasn't exactly a _chatterbox_ , and Kirk hated the silence. He drummed his fingers against the edge of the bed beneath him.

The doctor frowned. “Stop that.”

McCoy turned to his cabinets, looking for something. Kirk cast an eye around the examination room. On the walls was a _pain scale_ , which was a tiny bit unsettling. “So how do you like Ilven?” he asked.

“It’s a pile of crap,” McCoy said immediately.

“You’re a glass half full kinda guy, aren’t you? I can just tell.”

McCoy shot him a severely unamused glance, before unscrewing the lid off a jar of regen jell. It smelt fowl and Kirk automatically leaned away, wrinkling his nose.

McCoy saw his reaction and rolled his eyes. “Come here,” he demanded. “I’m not chasing you with the damn stuff. Do you want those bruises healed or not?”

Kirk sulked, but leaned closer so McCoy could reach him. He smeared the stuff thickly on Kirk’s face.

“Stop flinching! God, don’t be such an infant.”

“What? It’s _cold_!”

McCoy rolled his eyes.

“And . . . tingly.”

“Good. That’s how you know it’s working.”

Next he applied some kind of plaster to Kirk’s split lip and the cut above his left eyebrow. He hadn’t even known about that one. _Huh._

“So . . . I’m with the new group of colonists,” said Kirk, because McCoy wasn’t going to ask, apparently.

The doctor only grunted in response, scanning his ribs and frowning. “And you managed to get into a fight on your first day here? That takes some kinda talent, kid.”

“Well, the locals seem to have a hard time hearing the word ‘no.’”

McCoy finally looked at him, _really_ looked at him. Something flickered in his eyes, and his expression hardened. It wasn’t just annoyed-looking, he looked downright _murderous_. For a split-second Kirk thought he was mad at _him_ , like all the original settlers were all gonna stick together. But no, it was _Spock_ he turned to, slamming down the tricorder so hard Kirk was amazed it didn’t break.

“Damn it! I knew this would happen. You damn Feds bringing a bunch of young people here, getting the settlers all riled up, telling ‘em their getting wives, or brides, or whatever nonsense! Now look what’s happened. This is your fault!”

The Vulcan straightened, one eyebrow arching. “I assure you, Doctor, it was never the Federation’s intention that these new colonists would be treated with anything less than full respect and –”

“Respect my ass!”

“They are under the protection of Starfleet-”

“Then how come one of ‘em’s sittin’ here with cracked ribs and a busted up face?”

“Okay! Okay, guys, it’s not that bad!” said Kirk, grabbing the doctor’s arm because he actually looked like he was winding up to punch Commander Spock. “It’s just a couple bruises, alright? I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, _this time_ it’s just a couple bruises,” McCoy muttered, shaking his head.

“I can take care of myself.”

McCoy looked him square in the eye. “Clearly.”

Kirk swallowed. 

“Doctor McCoy,” Spock took a step closer to them. Kirk wasn’t so sure that was wise. “You of all people should understand the need for the current settlers to have companionship.”

“’Me of all people?’ The hell’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Our records indicate that it has been over a year since your own partner left you-”

This time, McCoy might _really_ have punched Spock in the face, if Kirk hadn’t leapt down from the examination bed and inserted himself between them. “Okay, low blow, Commander.”

Spock arched his eyebrow, and Kirk continued hurriedly: “let’s not break out the personal . . . _highly personal_ comments. Also, _weird_ that Starfleet has records of that.”

“The Federation is invested in keeping settlers like Doctor McCoy happy on their outer colonies,” Spock told them. “His skills as a surgeon are rare this close to the Neutral Zone. It was, in fact, for people like him that this program was initiated.”

McCoy looked ready to explode by this point. “What?! Now you listen here, you pointy-eared bastard, I don’t have any plans of getting married again – and if I _did_ , I wouldn’t need the damn Federation to pick out my wife for me!”

“There is no element of arranged marriage here, Doctor,” said Spock. Kirk was starting to think the Vulcan’s calm was just irritating McCoy worse. “Take James Kirk, for example.”

“ _What?”_ they both jumped.

“Federation agents involved in the screening process have determined him to be an ideal candidate for marriage to a settler, such as yourself. Clearly, you can see that he is healthy, young, fit and physically attractive.”

Well, it was weird to hear a Vulcan say that. Kirk almost opened his mouth to thank him, when McCoy snorted derisively.

“ _Attractive_? Well now, ain’t that a matter of personal taste?”

_Oh, ouch._

“Nevertheless, he has had survival training and a thousand hours of instructional tutorials on life on the outer planets –”

“No, wait, go back to the part where I’m _not_ attractive enough for you?” Kirk demanded.

McCoy rolled his eyes.

“I’m – well, I’m kinda bruised right now, sure, but _normally_ I’m very attractive!”

“Love your modesty, kid.”

“Logically, Kirk should prove to be a perfectly adequate choice for a spouse.”

 _Perfectly adequate?_ Kirk felt his self-worth depreciating by the second.

“Spock, you’re not helping.”

“Go on,” said McCoy, shaking his head. “Nurse Chapel will bind up your ribs. I got other patients to see.” He paused. “And take care of yourself out there. Living on the edge like this makes some of them a little crazy.”

Kirk allowed himself to be led away, to another room, but not without a backward glance at the handsome, grumpy doctor.

He’d never really had anyone get so indignant on his behalf before, even though he’d ruined it by implying Kirk _wasn’t_ the hottest piece of ass on Ilven.

And, _really_.

For some reason that just made Kirk want to impress him _more_. Why did that make Kirk want him _more_?

Spock was watching him like he was a particularly fascinating specimen of humanity.

Kirk rolled his shoulders, wincing only a little. “Yeah, okay, so he might be the one,” he decided.

“The one?”

“Yeah, Spock, you know, the –” he sighed, reaching up to wipe some of the stupid jell off his face. “I’m gonna get that grumpy-ass bastard to marry me.”


	2. The Importance of Nicknames

Five Months Ago

 

Kirk and Gaila were lying together on her narrow bed, toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose, kissing.

It was ‘role-playing’ according to Gaila – so they’d know how to act with their future spouses when they finally got shipped out to the final frontier.

Kirk was game, because, why not?

Kissing’s good.

“Jim, I think I love you.”

He froze, propped himself up a little, hands unsteady on the mattress underneath her. “Uh.” _Shit._

_Shit shit shit._

“That is so weird.” Kirk cringed as soon as the words left his mouth.

A pillow whacked him in the side of the face and he rolled over, landing with a thud on the floor.

“Is that what you’re going to say to your future husband or wife, when we finally get out there? That it’s ‘ _so weird_?’”

“Oh. Well. Yeah," he said. "Because, you know. It will be.”

Gaila burst out laughing, leaning on her elbow to look down at him. “James Tiberius Kirk, you’re the worst!”

He tilted his head back, smirking up at her. “Nah, I’m the best. Come on, you _looove_ me. You _just_ said it.”

Gaila rolled her eyes. “You might want to brush up your sweet talk, just saying.”

“What?!” he snatched the pillow, hitting her back. “How can you say that? I am the king of the pick-up line!”

“Yeah, but after you get the person in bed, ‘that’s weird’ isn’t exactly what any girl – or guy – wants to hear.”

“Ugh,” he buried his face in his hands. “Okay, okay, I thought –”

“That it was _getting weird_ ,” she flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Gaila . . . we’re friends, right?”

“. . . yeah.”

“I mean, we’re both going to marry other people, right?”

Silence from the bed.

“I don’t want it to be weird between us.”

She laughed, but shook her head. “It was always going to be weird between us, Jim.”

 

Present

 

“Uh. Jim?” Gaila waved a hand in front of his face, snapping her fingers. “Hello? Jim?”

He pushed her away, rolling over on his bed so he faced the wall.

“I just want to know if you’re alright.”

She crawled in next to him. The bed was narrow, so she was pressed up against his spine. “I mean you really got your ass handed to you back there.”

“ _Thanks_.”

“I just mean –”

“’s fine, Gaila. All good.”

“Then what’s got you in such a mood?”

“Try’na sleep.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, chin on his shoulder, snuggling against him, and Kirk couldn’t help but smile into the pillow, despite the fresh bruises. He did love snuggling.

“Okay, so, I met this guy,” he said.

“Who? The big guy who punched you in the face?”

“Ew, no.”

“The sexy young Vulcan commander?”

“No,” he thought about it for a moment. “Though that would be interesting.”

“Then who?”

Kirk smiled more into the pillow. “ _Doctor_ -”

“You met a dreamy doctor? Isn’t that kind of a stereotype?”

“Said the sexy Orion.”

“Hmph. Well, what’s he like?”

“Grumpy. Kinda bitter. He looked tired.”

Gaila’s chin dug into his arm. “Yeah, sounds like a real catch.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You’re weird, Jim.”

They slept like that, curled around each other like kittens on the narrow bed.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

In the morning, Kirk washed the rest of the jell and plaster from his face, examining the repaired, but still tender skin. 

He met Gaila and Janice on the porch for breakfast, arriving in time to hear Gaila telling Janice _all_ about his new crush. “Apparently, our Jimmy likes them old and grumpy. No wonder _I_ didn’t have a shot.”

“I didn’t say he was _old_.”

“Well, is he young?”

“Eh . . .” he shrugged, grabbing a scone off her plate.

“Well, I think that’s good,” said Janice primly, touching the sides of her beehive to make sure it was still in place. “Jim _should_ have an older partner. Someone who’ll take care of him.”

Kirk rolled his eyes. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

He was met by two rather unimpressed stares.

“What? Can’t I just like the guy?” he dropped into the chair across from them, trying not to pout. Alright, he might have pouted a little.

Their table was spread with muffins and biscuits, a jug of juice and a tin pitcher of milk. They were shielded from the sun by the overhang of the long dormitory, but had a clear view of the dusty, momentarily deserted street.

“So what’s the plan?” Gaila asked. “How’re you going to get this guy? What was his name again?”

“McCoy,” said Kirk, around chewing. “Leonard McCoy.”

Gaila wrinkled her nose. “ _Leonard_? Ugh, that’s the worst. It’s up there with _Tiberius_.”

He shot her a withering look. “Thanks,” he said. “But I know. I need to give him a nickname. But not, like ‘Doc’ or something. Anyone could call him _that_.”

“And not ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart.’ It’s too early for pet names,” Gaila warned.

“I know, I know,” he said, pouring himself a drink.

“Leo or Leon’s not bad,” said Janice.

Kirk shook his head. “Not original enough. I don’t want to call him something anyone else does.”

“Yeah, Heaven forbid the great Jim Kirk be unoriginal for two seconds,” said Gaila, but she smiled. “He could always be . . . ‘Cupcake!’”

He threw the scone at her.

He really was serious about the nickname thing, though.

A nickname was something that he could use to get the doctor’s attention. It would help him stand out from the crowd.

Besides, everyone loved getting a nickname, right? It would be his way of telling McCoy he thought he was special.

It was an excellent gateway to friendship.

And things beyond friendship that it was far too early to think about. But he was, anyway.

The only problem: Kirk couldn’t think of a nickname. His grumpy doctor was worthy of a truly inspiring moniker and Kirk couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out _what_.

  

*          *          *          *          *

 

Normally when Kirk hit a roadblock like this, he’d like to take his bike out for a spin, but the motorcycle was back on Earth. He tried browsing on the PADD, but couldn’t get a good connection and eventually threw it down in frustration.

Might as well explore _Prosper_ , since it looked like he would be living there.

Kirk liked exploring and it wasn’t long before he found himself enjoying poking around the town. It was weird to walk on unpaved streets and see windows stained with dirt and unpainted walls. Back on Earth, especially around the Federation bases where he’d been living for the past year, everything was shiny and perfect. Prosper was weathered and rough.

The men and women he passed didn’t bother him. Not being part of a group, he drew less attention – and the townspeople seemed a bit wary now. A case of shyness had settled over the community. Well, maybe they’d just heard about what happened to Henderoff and no one else wanted to end up in the brig. Or the drunk tank, or whatever they had here.

Aside from the Federation buildings, the hospital and four separate taverns, he noted a tailor and a blacksmith (it really was like going back in time), something called a haberdashery (now Ilven was just fucking with him) and an honest-to-God _library_ with _printed-on-paper_ books. Made out of dead trees and everything. Kirk caught himself whistling as he walked through the door.

The librarian was surprisingly young and cute. Kirk grinned, leaning across the front desk. “Hello there. Jim Kirk. I’m new.”

“Hikaru Sulu,” he shook his hand. “Welcome to Prosper.”

“ _New_ new. To Ilven.”

Hikaru laughed. “The whole planet, huh? Well, is there anything I can help you with?”

“Just trying to get my bearings. So you’re the librarian, huh?”

“I guess. I’m actually a botanist – and a pilot. Funny, isn’t it?”

Kirk blinked.

“Life, I mean. Where we end up.”

Oh, _yeah_. “No arguments here.”

Hikaru smiled. “I’m guessing you didn’t exactly grow up dreaming of exile to the barren reaches of space, either?”

“Well, not like this,” he admitted. “And I wasn’t expecting to find paper books out here, of all things.”

“Yeah. You may have noticed we don’t have the best grid access.”

Kirk decided he liked Hikaru Sulu. He was the nicest person Kirk had met on the Ilven.

“Hey, you know, I arrived with almost forty cute young guys and gals who are just dying to get hitched, if you want me to introduce you to somebody.”

“I think my husband might have something to say about that,” Hikaru smirked.

“Oh. Shit. Sorry, man.”

Hikaru waved off his apologies. “And what about you? Are you dying to ‘get hitched’, now that you’ve made it out here?”

“Ah, I –” Kirk found his gaze sliding off the man in front of him. _Why was he suddenly getting so embarrassed?_ It wasn’t like Jim Kirk to be _bashful_ , of all things. But he didn’t exactly know how to bring up Doctor McCoy.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could just . . .” he gestured to the wood and metal shelves packed with hardbound volumes.

“Of course.”

The majority of the collection appeared to be non-fiction, instructional books on farming, animal husbandry, first aid and building, as well as various Earth history books and memoirs about surviving in the wilderness or pioneer life.

It was to the historical accounts that Kirk turned first, pulling volumes down and carrying them to the tables.

Sure, he’d already done a lot of similar research before they’d left Earth, some recommended by the Federation, more on his own time. However, he enjoyed the novelty of looking at paper books.   

He lost most of the day reading, and left the library hours later, hungry and restless.

He had run across an interesting term in one of the old accounts. Apparently, an old fashioned slang for doctor was ‘sawbones.’ That was . . . unpleasant sounding. But neat.

Kirk turned that over in his mind, as he crossed the street. He was thinking about making his way back to the dormitory to find the girls and didn’t see McCoy until he ran into him.

And, okay, he _may_ have jostled the doctor harder than was absolutely necessary, but McCoy was sturdy and neither of them ended up sprawled on the sidewalk.

“Sorry, sorry!” _Not sorry._

McCoy shot him a mildly annoyed glance. “Oh, it’s you.”

Kirk grinned.

“How’s the face?”

“You tell me,” Kirk inserted himself directly in the doctor’s path, tilting his chin up at him.

McCoy sighed, as though this level of social interaction was the worst burden anyone had ever been forced to bear. “Kid-”

“ _Jim_ ,” he grabbed the doctor’s arm. “We’re going to be friends, you and I.”

McCoy snorted, but he didn’t pull his arm out of Kirk’s grip. “That a fact?”

“ _Ye-es_ ,” Kirk glanced at him. “So we should probably just skip all the awkward, getting-to-know-you stuff and jump straight into being friends. Which means getting drinks and maybe some dinner?”

“Ha!” McCoy pulled the smile off his face quickly, but he couldn’t take back the surprised laugh.

Kirk nudged him. “How about it?” 

McCoy sighed. “I don’t have time for friends. Go make a playdate with somebody else.”

“You don’t have time for one little drink?”

“A drink . . .” McCoy repeated. He glanced at him. It was hard to see exactly what was flickering behind his eyes.

“Come on, it’s only my second day on the whole planet.”

McCoy stopped walking so suddenly Kirk almost fell over. He stopped, trying not to be nervous.

“Fine,” said McCoy.

Kirk exhaled.

“ _One_ drink.”

“That’s the spirit, Bones!” Kirk smiled, slapping him on the back as they headed for the bar.

“Wait – wait a minute - what did you just call me?”

“ _Bones_.”

McCoy narrowed his eyes. “You _sure_ about that nickname, kid?”

He grinned cheekily. “Nope. That’s why I’m trying it out.”

McCoy closed his eyes for a second, sighing.

“What? You’re a doctor, doctors used to be called ‘sawbones’ back in the nineteenth century. And well, out here it is kinda like the past, Earth’s past, am I right?”

“. . . you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” said McCoy, grudgingly. “One might almost say too much.” But he allowed himself to be pulled into the tavern.

Dust glittered in the windows, filling the air and coating the surfaces in a gritty film. A few patrons lounged in the corners, but it was too early to have real crowds out.

 “I bet no one else calls you that.”

“Damn right they don’t,” McCoy muttered. “Say, how do you know what they called doctors in the nineteenth century, anyway?”

Kirk shrugged. “What? I read.”

McCoy looked like he kind of doubted that.

“I _read_ , Bones.”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That,” McCoy growled.

Kirk made a noncommittal noise, turning to the barkeeper to hide his smile.

He was totally going to keep calling him that.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

“So, how long have you been here?”

“Six years,” McCoy said. They were on third drinks, and he’d started to loosen up, giving (slightly) more than one word answers.

Kirk nodded. “Wow. So, d’you miss it? Earth?”

The doctor shrugged, then sighed, knocking back the rest of whiskey. “Every damn day,” he admitted.

Kirk didn’t know what to say. A man like Doctor Leonard McCoy should have been able to go just about anywhere in Federation space. Surely he could get a job back on Earth.

“My wife – my ex-wife, is there,” he muttered, scowling as the bartender refilled his glass.

“It’s a big planet,” said Kirk, after a minute of scowly McCoy silence.

He grunted, then glanced at Kirk. “What brings _you_ out here? You’re young, _reasonably moderate_ looking –” Kirk huffed “-you can’t actually be so desperate you’d sign up for this place.”

“I wanted an adventure.”

“Yeah, right, kid.”

“No, seriously. This is a brave new world, right? Anything might happen.”

McCoy was watching him; curious, tolerant.

Kirk continued: “Come on, didn’t you ever look up at the stars and just _have_ to know what’s out there, what it’s like?” McCoy shook his head slowly, but motioned for him to keep going. “I grew up in Iowa. Do you know what’s in Iowa? _Nothing._ Lots of it. For miles and miles.”

McCoy snorted.

“I’m serious! It was this emptiness . . . everywhere. On the ground, anyways. But looking up at the stars, there could be anything out there. And come on, _Ilven_ , Ilven has . . . alien ground, alien air. Different stars. Possibilities.”

McCoy stared at him, like he was going to say something, when his eyes slid past Kirk. He blinked, and the scowl was back.

Kirk was starting to worry he was making an ass of himself, when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned, blinking in surprise at Lieutenant Uhura and Commander Spock.

“You’re back here, already?” she asked.

“Sure,” Kirk shrugged.

She sighed. “Are you actually insane?”

“What?”

“You _just_ got jumped in this bar –”

McCoy’s eyebrows also shot up in surprise. “Damn it, kid,” he muttered, tossing back the last drops of his whiskey. 

“ _What?_ I’m _fine_. Should I stay inside for the rest of my life, curled up in the corner?”

Uhura still looked concerned, but Spock cast him an appraising look. “Mr. Kirk does seem intent on applying himself to the colonists’ stated task.”

“Call me Jim, please, Spock,” he grimaced, gesturing to the bartender for more drinks.

McCoy was scowling at Spock again, already. “What ‘stated task.’”

“Integrating with the settlers, of course,” Spock said smoothly. Turing to Kirk: “you do display . . . commendable dedication.”

McCoy threw his hands up in the air. “Not this again.”

Uhura touched Spock’s arm gently. “I don’t think anyone would blame Kirk if he needed some time, after . . .”

“I _thought_ you were interested in drinks with a _friend_ ,” McCoy frowned, pulling a battered credit chip out of his coat and slamming it down on the bar with more force than necessary.

Kirk winced. “I didn’t –”

“Save it,” McCoy pushed away from the bar.

Kirk couldn’t do anything but watch him go. What could he really say?

Uhura and Spock stood there, in their prim ‘fleet uniforms, flanking them, and McCoy paused long enough to glower at each of them. “We’re not zoo animals. I’m not going to be part of your damn quota. Find someone else for your twisted little sociology experiment.”

 Kirk hopped off his barstool. “Bones, wait-”

“ _Enough_ , Jim. I’m a doctor, not the Bachelor.”

Kirk’s shoulders sagged as McCoy stalked out of the tavern, without a backward glance.

Uhura shook her head. “Well, that was pleasant.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” he snatched up his drink.

Spock frowned. “I fail to see why our conversation affected Dr. McCoy so adversely.”

“Really? I’d say it was pretty obvious. He doesn’t like me.”

Uhura looked sympathetic, but Kirk shook his head at her. “Don’t say anything. It’s fine. I mean, he’s free to not like me, alright? Whatever. It’s cool. It’s fine.”

He was saying _‘it’s fine’_ a lot, Kirk thought distantly. Should probably cut that out. Especially since she didn’t look convinced.

He took another drink, downing it quickly, wanting the burn of the alcohol to dull the edge of his feelings. “Even _James T. Kirk_ gets rejected occasionally, okay? I’m not one of those creeps who chases after someone who’s not interested. I . . .”

He had really wanted to hang out with McCoy, though. Even though the doctor was grumpy and hard to have a conversation with, Kirk wanted to know more about him. He wanted to know this man who was so opposed to the Federation’s plans for the colonists, who had been concerned about Kirk’s safety.  

Uhura put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. But it looked like he was enjoying himself, until we showed up. Maybe don’t give up on him yet.”


	3. Some People Have Real Problems

McCoy was in a bad mood when he left the tavern. The wind started up, catching at his coat and blowing sand in his face. He rubbed a sleeve across his face. Damn dirt. Damn planet.

He kept seeing Jim Kirk’s wide blue eyes, when he talked about the stars.

And the hurt look when McCoy stormed off.

He shoved the guilt aside, since it was warring with the _other_ guilt he felt for coming home late. Ben and Hikaru were good about watching Joanna while he was at work, and she was probably having fun playing with Demora, but he knew he should be there. 

Let Jim find someone younger. Someone unburdened by an all-consuming job; still grieving a failed marriage. Why the hell was Jim Kirk so interested in him anyway?! 

He was sure Jim would have suitors lined up around the block before long. The kid was magnetic. He would find someone good for him. Someone who wasn’t so tired all the time. He was young, he’d forget about McCoy.

And the way _that_ twisted in his gut, well, that was just something else he would have to learn to ignore.

By the time McCoy made it home, the sun had set. The world was dark, bathed in starlight. He glanced at it for a moment. That wasn’t something he did often, but he found himself wondering if Kirk was looking up at it, too, picking out the new constellations.

McCoy didn’t live far from the hospital; in a place like Ilven every doctor was permanently on-call. Thankfully, they also didn’t care if he came in slightly drunk. He couldn’t live farther out, as many of the settlers did, staking their claims on the wide, empty alien soil. 

He paused outside the neighbor’s house.

The day caught up with him.

_Keep it together,_ he told himself.

He knocked on the door.

Hikaru answered, waving him in. They had electric lights – not everyone on Ilven was so lucky, another reason it was good to live in town – which flickered and buzzed as insects flew into them. Something like a moth fell at his feet, its paper-thin wings scorched, shivering.   
  
“Sorry I’m so late,” said McCoy. “Thanks for watching her.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” said Hikaru. “Demora loves playing with Jo.”

“Still. It’s not your responsibility,” McCoy sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Well, you look exhausted,” said Ben, coming down the hall. “I put the girls to bed. Thought they could have sleepover, if you were going to be late.”

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated. It would have been one thing if emergencies at work had kept him away, but he had no excuse for going drinking instead of coming home to his little girl.

Just.

Sitting in that bar, with Jim, was the first time in months he’d just been . . . himself. Not one of the only doctors on Ilven. Not Joanna’s dad. And he loved being both of those things, he did, but it had been so nice to _just_ be Leonard McCoy again.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Ben assured him, just as Hikaru had. “Come in, sit down.” 

McCoy fell into one of their kitchen chairs. His bones ached. Well, that reminded him of Jim’s nickname for him. Which made him feel like more of a jerk.

“I’m an asshole,” he muttered, taking the glass of water Hikaru handed him.

The Sulus exchanged concerned glances.

“I really should have been here earlier. I left the hospital on time, for once, it’s just . . .”

“Why? What happened?”

He grimaced. “You know the group of colonists who just arrived? One of them – Jim Kirk – landed himself in the emergency room last night, and today he ran into me again and decided that – apparently – we’re going to be friends.”

Hikaru and Ben blinked and exchanged looks again. McCoy was really starting to hate that.

“ _What_?”

“Jim Kirk? He came into the library today, seemed like a nice enough guy.”

“Well he – I think he _likes_ me, damn it!”          

Silence, for a moment, and then Ben burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny!”

“ _This_ is what’s got you looking like you came down with a case of Andorian shingles?” Ben asked. “Somebody _likes_ you?”

Hikaru shook his head at McCoy, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Some people have real problems, you know.”

McCoy groaned, his head falling forwards against the kitchen table with a clunk.

Ben sat next to him. “Listen, out here, the only way a person survives is by being part of a community. We’re all family, out here. We have to be. And this might do you some good.”

“Yeah, right,” McCoy shook his head.

If there was one thing his marriage had taught him, it was that, in the end, everyone is alone.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Kirk wished he was in a better mood. He loved Gaila, but happy-cheerful-giddy Gaila was a little hard to take when he was feeling like such shit. He watched her bouncing around their room at the Federation dorms, in her ‘nice’ dress.

It had been a couple days since he’d been rejected by Doctor McCoy and he wished he could say he hadn’t spent them sulking like a teenager, but, well, he mostly had.

Gaila spent them going out and exploring the town, and had met a charming fellow whom she described as nervous, babbling and absolutely adorable. Even if she couldn’t understand half the words that came out of his mouth.

“It doesn’t even matter,” she said. “I think it’s cute. _And_ he’s an engineer, and _you know_ I’ve always liked engineers, Jim -”

Kirk was trying _really_ hard to be a good friend and stomp down on his jealousy.

“Do you think he’ll like this colour lipstick?” she asked, not turning away from the mirror. “It’s not too orange-y?”

Jim Kirk knew fuck-all about lipstick, but he forced himself to smile. “He’ll like it, Gaila. You look incredible.”

She turned from the mirror with a huge grin, which disappeared because apparently his fake-smile wasn’t as good as he thought. “Jim . . . your grumpy doctor will come around. You just have to give him time. Besides, _Starfleet_ scared him off, not you.” She sighed, hands on her hips. “It’s really not like you to give up so easily.”

“You weren’t there, G. He was . . . _angry_ at the idea of going out with me.”

Gaila pursed her lips, not believing it. She shook her head. “Well, anyway, you’ll feel better after tonight.”

“But tonight’s your date-”

“Yeah, and we’re _both_ going to have a good time on my date.”

_Wait. What?_ “Okay, I know you know how dating works - _right_?”

Gaila rolled her eyes. “Jim, I explained it last night, but you were probably too smashed to remember.”

Okay, probably true.

“Scotty said I’d be more comfortable getting to know him in a group setting, so he invited me to dinner with some of his friends, and he told me to bring a friend, too. It was so cute! He’s totally sweet and considerate.”

Shit. That _was_ sweet and considerate, and as Gaila’s bone fide best friend he would _definitely_ have to go. She hadn’t stopped twirling around their bedroom in her dress.

“You know, most guys, when they see an Orion woman, they think all we care about is sex. And we are _total sex goddesses_ , no question, but still, if I’m going to find someone to _marry_ , I want to be friends with him, too. Plus, this way we both get to meet some more people from Ilven.” She grabbed Kirk’s hands. “This is gonna be great!”

“Yeah, great.”

She frowned. “Jim, you’re way more of a social animal than this. You need to get out there.”

“Gaila-”

“It’s not right for you to be cooped up in this creepy Federation building all day. Come on,” she latched onto his arm, nearly pulling him off balance. “We’re gonna find you something sexy to wear. Trust me, once we start meeting some new people, you’re going to forget all about Doctor Grumpypants.”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

 An hour later they arrived at Montgomery Scott’s house.

He came out to meet Gaila, blushing when he took her hand. “Ah. Ye came. I- I wasn’t so sure ye would.”

“Of course I would! I mean I did. I mean-” she hugged him, and he blushed harder.

Kirk smiled. Gaila was right, he _was_ adorable.

“A-And who’s yer friend?” he asked, unable to really tear his gaze away from the Orion.

“This is Jim Kirk. Jim, this is Montgomery Scott.”

“Ah, call me Scotty, everyone else does.” He shook Kirk’s hand. “A’m pleased tae meet ye. Make yourselves right at home now.”

Scotty’s house, Kirk realized immediately, was an intense hybrid of raw material and piecemeal tech. Only one wall was made of the bare logs sported by most of the settlement, the others were sheets of metal, maybe taken from an old shuttlecraft. The entire thing was draped over with cables and wires that looked to have been yanked from the belly of starship. Blinking lights flickered on an off throughout the house, leading them to a dining room with a long wooden table and several miss-matched chairs, but also various old monitors – some cracked and chipped with warped displays – sprouting from the walls like leaves.

“Scotty, wow – I mean this is amazing –”

“Ha, an amazin’ mess, more like,” the engineer shook his head. “Even though I ain’t a Starfleet engineer no more-”

“You worked for Starfleet?” Gaila asked.

“Aye, until a transporter accident with Admiral Archer’s prize beagle – uh, I’d rather not talk about it, if’n ’s all the same to ye. However, they like to have an engineer out here, help with the hospital equipment and the tech in the Federation buildings, an such. This here’s all jes me side projects. A bit o’ fun.”

Clearly a lot of work had gone into the house and Scotty might be a genius – or insane. Kirk hadn’t decided yet.

Gaila seemed impressed.

Scotty saw her looking and puffed up his chest slightly. “Well, what’s the use o’ bein’ the best engineer on the planet if ye can’t make yer own livin’ space a wee bit fancy?”

As they got talking, two little girls tore around the corner, knocking Gaila off her feet and into a tangle of loose cabling, before barrelling headlong into Jim.

He wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to catch them, or what. Kirk had very little experience with children.

“Girls, get outta the way,” Scotty sighed, helping Gaila to her feet. “Sorry ‘bout the wee ones runnin’ about.”

“Why are you green?” one of the girls asked Gaila, tossing pigtails over her shoulder.

“Are you going to marry Uncle Scotty?”

Scotty, now blushing furiously, seemed unsure what to say.

Kirk stood back, watching in amusement, until the girls turned on him. 

“And who are _you_ supposed to be?” they asked imperiously.

“My name is Jim. I’m Gaila’s friend.”

“How come you came to Ilven?”

“Did you arrive in a spaceship?”

“Did you see any space monsters?”

Hikaru walked in then, with a man Kirk thought might be his husband. He shook his head at the girls. “Now, now girls – you know better than to bombard people with so many questions.” To Kirk he said, “this is my husband, Ben, and our daughter, Demora-”

Ben shook his hand, while Demora – the one with pigtails – actually curtsied.

“And I’m Joanna,” the other child declared, with a toss of her head. She eyed Kirk up and down with a look of downright critical appraisal. “My daddy will be late because he always is.”

“Jo, your daddy has a very important job,” Hikaru started.

“It doesn’t _matter_ ,” the girl stated, cutting him off. “I’m just _explainin_ ’. He’s going to be late, so _you_ -” this was directed at Kirk “-you’re gonna play with us. Now hurry up, or we’ll make you walk the plank!”

Kirk blinked. Were all children this blunt and terrifying?

Hikaru sighed. “Joanna, you need to _ask_ Jim if he –”

“Okay,” Kirk shrugged.

What else was he going to do? Hang around awkwardly while Gaila and Scotty made googly eyes at each other?

Hikaru sighed. “Thanks, Jim, but you should know the girls are _really_ into pirates right now-”

“Avast, ye scurvy dogs!” Demora shouted suddenly, producing a wooden sword from somewhere and waving it at Kirk. He jumped back, barely avoiding getting whacked in the face.

Joanna grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the dining room, shrieking in delight, while Demora chased them and the rest of the adults looked on, bemused.

They ran out into the yard – which wasn’t so much a yard as the endless, stretching untamed Ilven wilderness beyond Scotty’s house, the sand red and gold, dark cliffs in the distance jutting down into distant plains. A short, gnarled tree sprouted small, purple leaves and long, hooked branches. The girls immediately shot up it, and were swinging from the lower boughs, upside down by the knees, in seconds.

_Crap_ , Kirk realized suddenly, he was the responsible adult here. Should he say something?

“Are you girls sure that’s safe?” Jeez. Just saying that made him wince. He hated being the responsible one.  
  
“ _No_ ,” called Demora, quite cheerfully.

“We don’t do _safe_ things,” Joanna pointed out, “we’re _pirates_. This is our spaceship.” Reaching up into the branches she pulled down a toy they’d hidden there – a green, plush bird – which she shook threateningly in Kirk’s direction. “This is our parrot, Bitey. If you don’t behave he’ll snap off your nose with his beak, see?”

“Alright, so am I pirate, too?”

The girls held a whispered conference in the branches, before glancing down at him again. “NO!” 

“No? You mean I _don’t_ get to be a pirate?”

“Nah-uh, you’re the Starfleet officer coming to stop us.”     

They decided Scotty’s toolshed was going to be the Galactic Bank, and the girls were going to try and get there, rob it, and make it back to their spaceship tree without getting caught. Kirk chased them around the house, laughing and yelling. He was only hit by the wooden sword a few times, but at one point Joanna threw the parrot in his face and Kirk grabbed it, like it was attacking him, and fell to the ground groaning in agony. “Oh, God, Bitey, no! Not my nose!” The girls collapsed in a fit of giggles.

It was all going pretty well, until Joanna froze, jumping up. “Daddy!”

She immediately ran past Kirk, and he turned, following her and saw-

“Bones!”

McCoy stared down at him, where he was sprawled in the dirt from “Bitey’s” attack, disbelief warring with outright horror on his face. “ _You_! What are _you_ doing here?” he asked, even as Joanna was throwing her arms around him.

“Daddy, this is my new friend,” she tugged her father’s hand so he’d look down at her. “Be _nice_ to him.”

McCoy opened and closed his mouth, brow furrowed. Demora took the opportunity to snatch the stuffed parrot back from Kirk. Joanna shouted “Hey!” and let go of her father to run after Demora.

The two kids immediately disappeared around the corner of Scotty’s house, screaming.

Kirk was left sitting there in the dust while McCoy loomed, scowling.

“Hey. So. Um. Hi.”

“Are you _stalking_ me?”

“What? No, man, Bones, I didn’t know Jo was your daughter.”

McCoy narrowed his eyes at him.

It was making him kind of nervous.

McCoy only rolled his eyes, shaking his head and walking around Kirk to get into the house. Kirk pushed himself up, brushing the dirt of his clothes and followed him inside.

“Ah, Doc, good tae see ye kin join us this time!” Scotty grinned. He was seated with Gaila perched happily on his lap, “this here bonnie lass is Gaila, and I see ye’ve already met Jim.” Scotty’s face was red, they both seemed a little tipsy already. At least they were cheerfully oblivious to the dark look McCoy gave them.

Luckily, Hikaru and Ben interrupted before he could say anything too biting. “Oh, Jim, thank you for keeping the girls out of mischief.”

“They can be such a handful,” Ben smiled. “Demora gets the swashbuckling from Hikaru.”

Hikaru ducked his head, turning to gesture to the long table, which had been laden with a feast. Scotty apparently wanted to make a good impression and hadn’t held back. There were dishes of roast meat, potatoes, baked beans, some alien vegetables Kirk didn’t recognize, fresh bread – and plenty of wine and beer, thank God. He wasn’t doing this sober, not with McCoy side-eyeing him so suspiciously the whole time.

 As they went to take their seats, Joanna took a second to consider before grabbing _Kirk’s_ hand, rather than her dad’s. “I want Jim to sit with me,” she declared.

“Now Jo, sweetheart-”

“I can talk to you anytime, Daddy,” she said, in a tone of finality, leading Kirk to the table. He couldn’t help smile a little at that. At least one McCoy enjoyed his company.

“You came all the way from Earth,” Joanna continued. “I was real little when we left, so I don’t remember.”

“Do you want to go back to Earth?”

She shrugged, spearing a potato with more violence than necessary. “I dunno. I wanna go away. Out there.” She looked up, wistfully, at the dark ceiling.

This was starting to sound a bit familiar.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

She then proceeded to grill him about their trip, asking a million details about their training, the ship they arrived on, the shuttle trip, if they saw any Starfleet officers. He got to tell her about Uhura and Spock, but really his journey hadn’t been that exciting. He was pretty tickled that she was asking him questions like he was some great space explorer, though.

He caught Gaila laughing at him across the table, a sparkle in her eyes. She could have answered Joanna’s questions just as easily, but she was letting him have this moment.

Kirk just wished he had more to tell her. Their ship hadn’t been that impressive, it was a transport vessel – “the constitution class starships they’re working on now are the _really_ impressive ones,” he explained. “They’re built for long voyages. For exploration. The men and women crewing those ships will get to see brave new world and encounter things no one’s ever seen before.”

The little girl nodded, listening intently. So intently she’d stopped eating.

“Jo, eat some of your vegetables,” said McCoy.

She turned the same scowl on him that the doctor had used on Kirk. He hid his smile behind his napkin, shaking his head. “But Jo, your dad’s been on the same trip. He must have stories to tell about space travel, too.”  

“No,” she shook her head with an exasperated sigh. “I’ve asked him. Daddy spent the whole trip sleeping.”

Kirk glanced at McCoy in surprise, to see the doctor groaning into his hand. “I could only do the trip sedated,” he mumbled.

“That’s a long time to be knocked out,” said Kirk. He couldn’t imagine wanting to miss a minute of the journey, watching the stars change outside the ship, knowing they were careening farther than human beings ever thought they would venture. Hurtling towards destiny.

“Well if I’m gonna die in a tin can rattling through the void I’m damn well gonna be asleep when it happens!” McCoy snapped.

Kirk almost laughed, but was stopped by the doctor suddenly leaning forwards, waving a fork at him. “You know what space _is_?” McCoy asked. “Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.”

There was an uncomfortable pause around the table while McCoy caught his breath. Kirk stared. He’d heard of people who were afraid of space travel, sure. But he’d never understood it. How could you look up at the stars at night and _not_ want to reach out and touch them? 

Beside him, Joanna gave a bored sigh and went back to eating her dinner. Her expression clearly said: _‘not this again, Dad._ ’ And this time Kirk did laugh.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Great, now the kid was laughing at him. McCoy glared down at his plate, pushing his food around. And alright, he _knew_ he wasn’t exactly being hospitable (his Mama would _not_ be pleased with the way he was acting,) but it was a tad disconcerting to come home from a long day of stitching up drunk settlers, only to find his little girl playing with Jim Kirk.

And now Jim was here, stealing glances at him across the table with his too blue eyes and flashing him that smile, while he charmed Jo with tales of space travel. And God, it made McCoy want to _cry_.

_Stop telling her how great fucking SPACE is!_ he _wanted_ to scream. He gave himself credit for maintaining his composure (okay, except for that last little bit.) But even the thought of space made his skin start crawling and his guts clench. _One little crack in the shuttle and everyone onboard boils, eyeballs exploding._

Just the thought of his baby girl going up in one of those Starfleet exploration ships was the stuff of nightmares. He knew better than to discourage her fascination with space, but he didn’t exactly like to encourage it, either. She was only eight years old, after all, there was plenty of time for her to grow out of her fascination with the great unknown.

_Not that it seemed Jim ever had._

But then, back to his original question – why the hell was Jim even _there_? McCoy wanted to drag Hikaru and Scotty away and yell at them – how dare they meddle in his personal business? But Scotty was enamoured with his new girl, they only had eyes for each other. Hikaru was listening to Demora relate her and Jo’s latest grand adventure.

McCoy downed the rest of his beer, realizing that _he_ was the only one not having a good time – as usual. When had he become the bitter, crusty old man? The token crank? He wasn’t even that old, damn it! He was pretty sure he was younger than Scotty, not that you’d know it by the way they acted.  

_When did it start?_ How about when his wife left him on the edge of charted space, on a rustic, backwater little piece of shit planet, to raise their daughter by himself while doing the job of about a hundred doctors? Leonard McCoy wasn’t _that_ old, but at the same time he felt _too_ old – too old for flirting, for boyfriends, for whatever the hell Jim Kirk wanted.

And here he was, back to wallowing while everyone talked and laughed and ate and drank around him.

“Ye know what we should do now?” Scotty asked suddenly, loud enough for the whole table to prick up their ears. “We should ‘ave a good ole fashioned dance.”

McCoy’s groan was drowned out by everyone else’s cheers.

They cleaned up the food, moved the table and chairs out of the way, and Scotty pushed something on one of the displays hooked up around the room. McCoy had to admit he’d thought they were mostly for show, but the main lights dimmed and a smattering of smaller LEDs embedded in the ceiling winked on, like those stars Jim and Jo were both so enamoured by. Old Earth-style music came floating out of somewhere.

“Jes be careful not te trip on any o’ the wires,” Scotty called, kicking a bunch of cabling aside.

The kids started excitedly jumping around and were much impressed with Gaila’s dress, demanding she twirl in it again and again. She, laughingly, obliged.

When a slow song started up, Joanna and Demora made their way to the kitchen to see if Scotty had any cookies for dessert. Ben and Hikaru started slow dancing, and Gaila practically leapt into Scotty’s arms. That left him and Kirk standing there . . . awkwardly.

He should probably help the girls in the kitchen –

But then he had his arms full of Jim Kirk somehow, spontaneously, as though the kid just teleported there. Kirk with that damn playful smirk of his. “One song, Bones? Promise I don’t bite.”

Well, it just wouldn’t be _polite_ not to move a little. McCoy found himself slipping into leading the dance without hardly meaning to. Part of him was surprised Kirk was letting him lead, and a larger part was surprised they weren’t stepping all over each other’s feet.

Kirk moved lightly and McCoy had his arm around his back. It felt nice. Almost like the others weren’t even there.

“So . . .” Jim looked up at him. “I gotta know. Do you really not like me?” The playful smirk was gone, and it sort of rocked McCoy how Jim could go from being over-the-top to dead serious between one heart beat and the next. “Cause I don’t want to be a creep.”

McCoy sighed. “Kid, it ain’t you. You’re-” _Beautiful. Gold, like sunlight and summer. Downright impish and clearly resilient. Good with kids, even. What more could a man ask for?_ He cleared his throat. “Well, there ain’t a thing wrong with you.”

“What then?” Jim stopped dancing, but at some point he’d taken hold of McCoy’s hand and he didn’t let go.

McCoy was very aware the room was full of his friends, who were all shuffling around them, doing their best to pretend not to be listening, but obviously listening to every word they said. He hoped Kirk couldn’t see his blush. “Look, don’t you think it’s wrong, them shipping you and your friends out here like a damn supply run?" 

“Stop using that as an excuse!” Kirk finally stepped away from him, and now the others weren’t even bothering to pretend they weren’t listening. “I’m a grown man, Bones. I’m twenty-four and I signed up for this of my own free will.”

“Yeah, well, _why_ , though?” McCoy asked. “You’re young and beautiful. You could do whatever you wanted.”

“And I wanted _this_! God, is that so hard to understand? A fresh start, maybe I don’t know, a chance at some sort of . . . a . . .”

“What, Jim?”

But the girls came back, full of sugar and demanding their turns to be danced with. At least the mood lightened, and he didn’t have to look at Jim Kirk again, because he didn’t think he could take that look again, or the flash of a sad, desperate gaze he’d glimpsed behind the blue eyes.


	4. Every Star Shining Brightly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a big THANK YOU to everyone who's left comments and kudos! I'm sorry I kind of suck at replying, but it really does make me so happy and relieved that people are enjoying this fic! I'm having a blast writing it - and thank you all for being patient with the extremely slow build to the Kirk/McCoy relationship - they will get there, I promise! Hope you all like this chapter! :)

Joanna and Demora started yawning. The dinner was wrapped up over a couple drinks and cups of coffee. The music tapered off, everyone trying to ignore the awkwardness that had settled between Kirk and McCoy, casting a shadow over the party.

Scotty insisted on walking Gaila back to the Federation buildings, since it was after dark. “Ye cannae be too careful. Most of the folk in these parts are decent, but some of ‘em . . .” he shook his head.

Kirk opened his mouth to object. Not to ruin their moment, but _he_ was walking back with Gaila – they lived in the same place, after all – but Gaila lit up, grabbing Scotty’s arm with a huge grin on her face. “That’s a great idea!” she chirped, and Kirk quickly snapped his mouth shut.

_Oh, well._ He would just have to pretend he didn’t see the lovebirds hanging off each other every step of the way.

“’tis a cryin’ shame we don’ get a good fog, like back home. There’s nothing like a stroll through the fog with a bonnie lass.”

“I guess we’ll just have to make do with a walk in the moonlight, instead,” she said, eyes sparkling.

Kirk resisted the urge to hold his head in his hands and groan. He was happy for Gaila, he really was, but watching her with Scotty was like salt in the wound this point. McCoy hadn’t so much as _looked_ at him since their one, disastrous, dance, and had retreated to the far side of the room to chat with Ben and Hikaru while their daughters played. 

“You know, we can take Jo home, if you wanted to walk with Kirk,” Hikaru offered.

McCoy glowered, arms crossed.

“I’ll be fine,” Kirk said, beating him to it, because really he’d had enough.

He left without bothering to look back, and let Gaila and Scotty follow.

Once outside, the Ilven air had a sharp chill not felt during the day. The stars were bright, and even without streetlights Kirk found he could see alright by the light of the stars and Ilven’s two, small moons.

Gaila and Scotty past him, arm-in-arm, and Kirk hung back, dragging his feet, letting the space between them grow as they walked through the shadowy, darkened streets of the settlement. Precious few windows glowed with light, and he caught the gleam of old-fashioned lanterns more often then electricity.

He let the lovebirds get farther ahead, until their voices were nothing but distant murmurs and their shapes disappeared around the shadows of the buildings.

Kirk stopped and looked up at the stars. _Different stars_. Different suns, orbited by different worlds. He’d known all the constellations on Earth. He’d spent a long time tracing them with his eyes, staring up from Iowa cornfields, dreaming that one day he’d see them arranged in different shapes. Now he could say he had, but _he_ was the same Jim Kirk – directionless, anchorless, with a gnawing restlessness squirming deep in his belly – and _that_ filled him with sour dread.

What if he’d made a horrible mistake, coming out here? What if it really turned out to be no better than Earth? He could have kept driving his motorcycle across the country, stopping at bars, having more one night stands and pretending space wasn’t always looming over him. He could have kept lying to himself, telling himself he didn’t feel that pull, that longing for the ever-unfurling black – space and Starfleet had taken his father. He _shouldn’t_ pine for them. He told himself that every day and ended up drinking and fucking to try and drown it out, but in the end he still hadn’t been able to, and now look at him. He’d made a mess of everything. 

Even coming here, deciding he wanted something he’d never had before – a relationship that lasted more than one whiskey-soaked night - and he immediately fell for someone who didn’t want him back. Well, it figured.

No one back home would be surprised to hear that Jim Kirk had fucked up again.

Kirk stumbled and brought his gaze back slowly to the ground. By this point he could no longer see or hear Gaila and Scotty. He’d wandered into Prosper’s downtown, everything closed and dark except the taverns. He could go and get shitfaced, he thought, at least that would be something familiar. He didn’t really _want_ to, but he didn’t really know what else to do, either. 

While he was hesitating outside the bar, two men came out, stumbling and talking too loudly. He didn’t recognize them at first, until he heard their voices –

“Can’t believe that little cocksucker got _Henderoff_ locked up! Man, if he wasn’t hiding in that Fed building all the God-damn time I’d fuck him up good-”

“Yeah, wait till I get my hands on that little bitch. He’d fucking dead.”

_Great, “Cupcake’s” friends._

Kirk rolled his eyes, groaning inwardly. Just his luck he’d run into these idiots. Part of his brain raised caution flags, told him if he kept his head down and kept walking, he could go right by them without incident. 

Kirk had never been really good at listening to that part of his brain.

Instead, he put himself directly in their path, smiled brightly and said, “well, here I am. What are you gonna do about it?”

Kirk had never once responded to the flight-or-fight impulse by running away. If anything he stood up straighter, feeling his heart pound faster.

The first one threw a punch, but it was sloppy and drunk. Kirk dodged it easily, almost laughing as the adrenaline kicked. This was something he knew how to do.

The second one grabbed him, twisting his arm painfully, but Kirk hooked his leg around the man’s knee, tripping him and brought them both down. He managed to free himself, jumped up again, only to take a blow to the back of the head. He stumbled forwards, blinking black spots out of his eyes, but didn’t let that stop him from throwing a punch at the one who was just climbing back to his feet.

He was busy wrestling with the second guy, so he never saw the first one pull a phaser on him. He _heard_ it though, the buzzing zap, and smelt the sharp crackle of ozone, and he even had time to think _oh shit,_ and, _Jim you’ve really, seriously fucked up this time,_ before the pain slammed into him. A full wall of pain and flashing light and panic, panic, panic – he couldn’t move. He couldn’t scream. His body was no longer his. 

Like his father, he was lost in the black. He was falling through space.

 

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

 

“You’re being a little cruel to that kid, you know,” said Ben.

The Sulus, McCoy, and their children, walked together towards their houses. Being neighbours, it only made sense for them to leave together, besides the girls continued to chatter, though McCoy didn’t know how they managed to still have energy. He felt tired right to his . . .

bones.

_Damn it._

McCoy scowled – ignoring the lump in his throat. “ _I_ didn’t invite him.”

“You could at least try to be nice-”

“Well I’m _not_.” It was nothing less than God’s honest truth, and the sooner Jim Kirk realized it, the sooner he could move on to someone good for him.

McCoy figured if he kept telling himself that, sooner or later he’d believe it.

“You could have gone with them,” said Hikaru, shooting McCoy a disapproving glance.

He wondered if they were going to talk about him later – about what an asshole he was. The thought made him even more tired. McCoy didn’t particularly care about other people’s opinions of him, but he _liked_ the Sulus, and he never set out to be openly despised. 

“Look, it’s better this way. Better for him.”

“Right. Walking home alone. At night. On Ilven,” said Hikaru. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t end up in your emergency room again.”

“Stop being so damn dramatic. What trouble’s he gonna get into between here and the housing? He’s got Scotty and Gaila with him.”

“I guess . . .” Ben cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Hikaru gave him a questioning look.

His husband shrugged. “It’s just . . . well, I know we haven’t known Jim very long, but don’t you think he might be the sort to, well, wander off, give his friends some space to be romantic? He might not realize how dangerous it is . . .”

“And we know he likes to go drinking,” Hikaru frowned, “they’re walking right by the same bar he was beat up in before . . .” he trailed off, letting the suggestion hang there, in the air between them.

 McCoy stopped walking so fast Jo bumped his leg.

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath. “That kid has the self-preservation instincts of a lemming.”

“You could go . . . just check up on them,” Ben suggested. “Jo can come visit with us until you get back.”

McCoy took a deep breath. He had a sudden, horrible feeling. _Remember how the kid managed to make enemies within his first few hours of being here?_

“Jo, sweetie, you wouldn’t mind visiting with Demora for a little longer, would you?” he asked.

She shook her head. Her eyes, looking up at him, were dark and startling somber in the night. “Go make sure Uncle Jim is okay, Daddy. _Please_.”

He nodded, swallowing, already backing up a few paces. He ignored the way Hikaru and his husband shared a glance.

His heart already pounding, McCoy turned and ran back down the other direction, toward the centre of Prosper, where Kirk and the others should have passed. If they hadn’t got separated. If Kirk hadn’t wandered off, like an idiot, which McCoy already knew he was.

_Of course he’s an idiot, he likes_ you _, doesn’t he?_ A bitter, mocking voice in the back of his head said. McCoy picked up his pace.

He ran through the dark streets. He’d had to before, to get to the hospital in the middle of the night for an emergency, so he knew his way around. He moved quickly, and he arrived outside the tavern.

A pair of thugs were dragging an unconscious body across the ground. In the dark, he couldn’t make out who. “Hey! You there! Stop! STOP!” McCoy yelled.

They looked up, the man holding the figure’s shoulder’s fumbled while the other let go of the ankles, spinning and spouting curses.

“Get out of here! Mind your own damn business!”

McCoy forced his already winded body on with another burst of speed. “The hell do you think you’re doing?!” 

The man drew a phaser from his belt and McCoy stumbled to a halt, panting, chest heaving. He’d just run across town and he was a doctor, damn it, not a brawler. “You sure you want to do that, son?” he asked. “You gonna shoot one of the only three doctors in this city? You want to explain that to your friends and neighbours in the morning?” 

This gave the man pause, and McCoy recognized him faintly – you recognized everyone in a town like Prosper, if you lived there more than a few months – he was one of Henderoff’s gang.

You couldn’t go for a walk without tripping over someone you hated in a town like this, McCoy thought.

The stringy Ilven clouds shifted over the two small moons and light fell down on the slumped form – _Jim!_

McCoy’s heart lurched. He hadn’t realized he’d shouted out loud until he saw the man flinch. He moved towards Kirk, but the phaser raised again. “You son of a bitch,” McCoy growled. “If you’ve hurt him – if you’ve hurt him, I swear -”

Anger roared up in him like a volcano. Jim lay there, the curve of his cheek pale against the dirt. From the distance McCoy couldn’t tell if he was breathing. And that thought clenched in his gut like iron clamps.

_Infuriating, meddlesome, reckless, idiot kid._

With that smile and those sparkling eyes and the warmth of him, sliding against McCoy while they shuffled awkwardly to dance around Scotty’s living room.

Jim Kirk, insisting they would be friends.

McCoy felt like he was the one who couldn’t breathe. 

“Get outta here, Doctor. You didn’t see this. Just go on home and forget it.”

“Like hell,” McCoy met his gaze, ignoring the phaser. “I may be a doctor, but you want to see how fast I can put you in the hospital?”

McCoy sprang forwards. The man wasn’t expecting it, which was how he got him. McCoy knocked the phaser out of his hand and decked him. The weapon went skittering away, lost in the dark shadows of the building. McCoy really wasn’t a fighter, but he put everything into that punch and the man went down on his knees, spitting blood from a split lip.

His accomplice, McCoy noticed, had already scarpered, deserting the scene.

 Alone and without his weapon, the man hesitated, glancing up at McCoy with a look of contempt.

“I already alerted the Starfleet officers stationed here,” McCoy lied. “You might want to run.”

The lie worked and the second man took off, disappearing into the night.

_That only left –_

“Please don’t be dead, kid,” McCoy muttered, hurrying back to wear Kirk lay, sprawled out, frozen on the ground. 

McCoy dropped down next to him, fingers hurriedly searching for a pulse. He felt the warmth of Kirk’s throat beneath his hands, the soft skin and, _yes,_ a pulse. It was faint, but steady.

_Stunned,_ McCoy told himself, again and again. _Only stunned._ The doctor heaved a sigh of relief, raising a shaky hand to run through his hair.

He was chilled with sweat in the night air, his heart still hammering, and his fist ached like a son of a bitch. He sat down in the dirt next to Kirk, shoulders shaking. “God, you’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you? I’m too old to deal with this shit. I . . . Hell, I ain’t even that old,” he muttered, sighing again, rubbing his hands over his face. He felt chilled.

He should _really_ use his communicator to alert Starfleet. He couldn’t get Kirk to the hospital on his own, and even though it was just a stun blast, the kid should still be checked out. His hands shook as he fiddled with the dials. 

“God, I really thought . . .” he dropped the communicator again. He would call them in a minute. For now, he wanted to just look at Jim Kirk and see him breathing and keep telling himself it was alright. He got there in time.

_And you almost didn’t. You almost didn’t go at all._

_God,_ he pressed his fingers into his eyes.

_You God damn fool, Leonard McCoy._

Jim’s face was beautiful, unfairly so, McCoy thought, studying the full lips and the dark eyelashes. He absently reached out to brush some of the golden hair back from his face.

But that wasn’t the worst part. He could have ignored beauty, on its own.

“It’s just like the universe to send me someone like you now, you know? When I’m a fucking mess. Just trying to keep it together, just trying not to fall into the bottle for Jo, and the people who need me. I’m not that much older than you, I reckon, but I _feel_ it. I feel ancient. And used up. And more tired than you can even imagine. I dream about being tired, you know?” he laughed humorously, but found he kept brushing Jim’s hair, just ‘cause he liked it. It was easy to talk to him now, like this, when he was unconscious and he’d never know. And maybe shock had made McCoy talkative.

“When Joyce left I got over it by telling myself I didn’t need that part of my life anymore. I had _Jo_ , and I had my _work_ , and that was going to be _it_ , but that would be okay. I’d just be alone, and I might be miserable every day for the rest of my life, but that’s fine, you hear me? That’s _fine_. I could deal with that.

“But then you come along, and I don’t mean to be such an asshole to you kid, truly I don’t, but – you come along and you make me want things I can’t want. I can’t want them ‘cause it won’t work. You’re young and stupid, you don’t know. But it’s impossible to ever love another person, really, I know that now – 

“I’d just fuck everything up again, like I did with Joyce, and you deserve better, you hear me?” he glanced at Kirk and almost jumped, snatching his hand back when he saw the blue eyes partly-open, watching him through long lashes.

He blinked slowly.

“Damn, kid – I – ” _How much had he heard?_ McCoy swallowed, he couldn’t ask him that now. “You’re probably cold,” he muttered, shrugging off his jacket and clumsily draping it over Kirk’s still body. “If you can’t move yet, don’t worry, that’s normal. Sometimes with these things it takes an extra couple of minutes before your body comes out of it.”

Kirk’s lips twitched, ever so slightly. “Thanks,” he rasped. McCoy had to lean closer to hear him. “You’re . . . nice, Bones.”

McCoy sighed. “No I’m not,” he rubbed his face. “No I’m not, I’m mean – I’m a mean old man, got it?”

The night felt heavy on his shoulders. He picked up the communicator, flipping it open and shaking the dirt out. What was he doing, rambling on while the kid needed help? He alerted the hospital and Starfleet.

“Don’t . . . I don’t need . . .”

“Yes, you do,” McCoy stated. He dusted off his pants, getting ready to stand up.

Kirk’s face was twitching, and the tips of his fingers. McCoy could see him struggling to come out of the stun. “Wh . . . where are you . . . Bones?”

“Relax. I’m not leaving, just standing.”

“Well, don’t,” he croaked. "Please?"

McCoy stayed seated. “Alright, fine. I’m right here. Help’ll be here in a minute.”

“You . . . _are_ ,” Kirk huffed.

“Yeah, well, proper help. We’ll get you to the hospital.”

“You . . . be my doctor, right?”

McCoy could tell it was a struggle for him to get the words out, but he still couldn’t help smirking a bit in amusement. “Well, yeah, you ain’t got much choice on that account,” he said.

“Good,” Kirk said so simply McCoy felt the smirk slide off his face.

“You’ll be okay, kid,” he said quietly, adjusting his jacket a bit so it covered Kirk better. “You were lucky that phaser was set to stun. What were you doing, wandering off in a place like this?”

  
But when he glanced back at Kirk’s face, his eyes were staring up at the sky. McCoy sighed, but followed his gaze. Above them, the stars spilled across the black Ilven night in thick, milky streams.   
  
“New . . . constellations,” said Kirk.

“I guess.”

“C’mon, Bones . . . ugh,” Kirk was trying to move.

“Stop that,” McCoy warned, “you’re only gonna strain something.”

“Ffffgh. Fine. So tell me . . . what do the people of Ilven see . . . when they look up at the stars?”

“Seriously?” McCoy raised an eyebrow. “I’m a doctor, Jim, not an astronomer.”

“Humor . . . your . . . patient,” Kirk wheezed.

McCoy rolled his eyes, but he leaned back, dutifully looking at the streams of silver overhead that he’d never, honestly, given much thought to before. “Fine. I guess that bunch over there sort of look like a shoe.”

“Hngh . . . you’re . . . the worst.”

“Okay, okay, how about those ones there? That kind of looks like a soup ladle?”  
  
“Have . . . big dipper . . . on Earth.”

McCoy sighed. “Fine, it’s a – a bird, then. A parrot.”

He heard a wheezing sound that might have been Kirk trying to laugh.

“Yeah, see that’s it’s wing. It’s from the side.” _Yeah, a parrot._ He’d have to remember that one to tell Joanna. She’d like that.

“Mmm, okay, Bones.”

The voices of the Starfleet officers looking for them interrupted then, which was almost a shame, really, McCoy thought. As much as he wanted to get Kirk safely to the hospital and make sure he was fine, he had actually been enjoying their talk.

“Doctor McCoy?” Lieutenant Uhura ran forwards, flipping open her own communicator. “I found them,” she said, to whoever was on the other end. “Doctor is he –”

“I’m fine,” said Kirk, even though he couldn’t move.

McCoy just snorted, shaking his head. “Fine?” he pulled himself to his feet. “He got jumped by two guys, Henderoff’s friends. One had a phaser. It’s around here somewhere, actually.”

Uhura listened, shaking her head. Not that she didn’t believe them, McCoy thought she looked genuinely worried and upset. “This shouldn’t be happening,” she said. “The colonists, they were supposed to be safe.”

“’m _fine_ , guys,” Kirk insisted, from the ground.

McCoy frowned down at him.

“’ve been in worse . . .” he muttered.

McCoy’s frown deepened. _We’re talking about that later_ , he thought, then he chided himself: _what are you doing? Getting too close again, too damn close – it’s not your problem –_ but that was a God damn lie and he knew it.

It was a lie because his throat burned and he felt sick to his stomach when he looked down at Jim and realized how much worse things could have been – _almost had been_.

It was just no use, pretending that he _wasn’t_ gonna be this kid’s friend, because Kirk had already decided it. He could be _that_ , at least, he assured himself. He could be the gruff, serious friend Jim Kirk clearly needed to help keep him out of trouble.

And if part of that friendship meant convincing Kirk that they couldn’t be more than that – _that McCoy was poison, as Joyce said_ – then that was a problem for the morning, for the daylight.  

For right now, while Uhura spoke hurriedly into her communicator and paced, he dropped back down beside Kirk and reached for his stiff, frozen hand. 


End file.
